Starting Wednesday a dream was born. A dream that had been rumbling for a week, but one I really didn’t think was on the table. Like when a beautiful woman actually accepts your proposal for a date after weeks of fantasizing about the no in your head (she isn’t real, you’re just high on Sudafed). The dream was offered after nine years of life in a dreamland state. Call me Alice in Chains, because I was in Wonderland but from across the pond. I met a couple of Liverpool fans, including one fan at Target while I was very out of breath because Target was closing in 10 minutes. But I had been introduced to a continuation, a continuation of Klopp.
If you’ve never read this blog, I must point out that I have an almost zealous infatuation with Klopp. When he left, I wrote my longest blog yet about him. To me, it’s still some of my best writing because it’s so personal. There’s also the time I wrote about how Liverpool was there for me in my formative years. And by there for me, I mean I learned about the beauty of soccer by watching Liverpool. I could have been a Chelsea or Arsenal or, life be damned, a Manchester City fan. Side note: When I see a child in a Man City jersey I stare angrily (because of the charges).
You know how when someone has a stepdad who has been there since they were two, so they count him as their real dad. It’s a similar experience to me, except my bio dad is a Northern Irish man who really liked the portion of MLK’s I Have a Dream speech about character.
That is how I began my soccer journey. While Brendan was at the helm wasting the end of Stevie G’s career with Rickie Lambert and Fabio Borini. (I hate on Rickie Lambert but this was his childhood dream). And, to me, Jurgen Klopp was a smiley German who acted like a program rebuilder. Similar to a modern-day Rick Pitino. In an essence, my only experience with Klopp has been as a rebuilder. A doubter into a believer, in his words. Because thanks to the fact I have a need to consume as much content as possible, I learned about how Liverpool had become a long-suffering entity, with moments of brightness.
So, as Gregg Berhalter was relieved of duty and Klopp’s name was less sprinkled and more pounded by the news media it felt reminiscent of another time. A time when Thierry Henry was tenderly grasping Jamie Carragher’s leg. But, in reality, Klopp was never going to come. The whole reason that Klopp had even left Liverpool was because he had become too tired to manage anymore. After nine seasons of doing his best, but being stopped at every turn by a nation-funded club, it made sense. He deserved to walk away and spend every day in the Spanish sun.
Even more realistically, this comes right out of the US Soccer playbook. It feels like the same reason that Bielsa’s name was thrown around the last cycle by the news media. It’s like a weird form of reverse begging. US Soccer fans get complimented, only to be let down when the chosen manager is unspectacular. I’m fully under the impression this is a concerted effort by the sickos over at USSF who are obsessed with employing their friends. Whenever Bruce Arena was named the coach after so much post-Klinnsman potential it was a punch in the gut. This cycle, I am again fully prepared to be pumped full of highly respected coaches, only to see Jesse Marsch go to Canada. This time I’ll just wait for the already-appointed guy – Steve Cherundolo.
It still was a supremely fun 24 hours, where I got to dream a little. Like I was going through a divorce, I had finally figured out how to let him go. Arne Slot was my new boyfriend who I had finally let into my heart. Then, a team I love, in desperate need of a tactician and a competent man-manager, put Klopp’s name out there. Again, it was just a farce, but it was a beautiful farce. And it allowed me to dream of a USMNT that actually competed in 2026 and beyond. And it’s because I believe in the dreams of the USMNT.
I’ve been watching this USMNT slowly but surely crawl its way into what it has always wanted to be — a team chalked full of European talent. The fact that that’s not a wholly good thing is a conversation for another day. But I still see this dream slowly coming to fruition of a USMNT that is fully competitive because of the depth of talent this country has. And with Klopp, that dream was a little more achievable. If not wholly unrealistic.
Oh, well. At least John Brooks is happy somewhere.
Follow Moon Stamp Sports on Twitter/X, Instagram and Facebook, and follow Jorden on Twitter/X. Check out other blogs by Jorden.
